 By
Patricia Kubala
In
the ongoing debate about Arabic music video clips that currently
engulfs the cafés and newspapers of Egypt and the rest
of the Arab world, one frequently comes across critics who decry
the apparent lack of diversity and meaningful messages contained
in this pop culture genre. According to this argument, unlike
a true form of artistic expression, the video clip is divorced
from political and social realities, artistically tafih
(vapid) or habit (vulgar), and its only aim is the generation
of profit for the producers and satellite television stations
that broadcast them.
Thus, a recent, fairly
typical, critique by the Egyptian political analyst Abdel-Wahab
M Elmessiri entitled "Ruby and the Chequered Heart"
begins with the definition, "A video clip is a short movie
comprising a jingle, a dance, and a dramatic theme. A far cry
from the world of song as we once knew it, it must be said at
the outset, for this is all a video clip comprises."(1)
Further along in the piece, in a section entitled "Outside
History," the author asserts that "[t]he video clip
is disassociated from current events," citing the assassination
of Sheikh Ahmed Yassin as a historical moment during which "the
entire nation was enraged, yet [the] video clip churned out
cheerful songs as if nothing had happened."(2) The conclusion
of the article unequivocally condemns the video clip as a disreputable
cultural genre, with Elmessiri warning that "[t]hrough
satellite stations, video clips reach into our homes, mingle
with our dreams, reshape the way we see others and ourselves.
Their goal is not to enlighten us or deepen our understanding
of our surroundings -- it's profit. They are parasitical capitalist
enterprises that compete with each other to make more money,
and the end result, rather than enhancing our sense of beauty
or improving our ability to appreciate the arts, is simply vulgarity
and alienation -- the flesh parade."(3)
Most viewers would
agree that the majority of Arabic music video clips, as Elmessiri
notes, do not aim at lecturing or morally uplifting their audiences,
but rather exist simply for entertainment. A point of clarification
is in order, however, because although Elmessiri refers to the
video clip in such sweeping terms, he is no doubt aware that
a degree of diversity and recognition of social and political
realities does in fact exist in the video clip genre. Numerous
examples come to mind, including the commemorative videos that
flooded satellite television screens after the assassination
of former Lebanese Prime Minister Rafiq al-Hariri and the death
of Egyptian actor Ahmed Zaki. Similarly, on Mother's Day and
National Orphan's Day in Egypt this year, satellite channels
made a point of screening videos honoring mothers and children.
During Ramadan of 2004, the sound and sight of Sami Yusuf's
popular religious video clip al-Mu'allim (the Teacher)
filled the airwaves. Nor are the grim and heartbreaking circumstances
of the Palestinians and the Iraqis completely absent, with video
clips such as Ahibbini (Love Me) from Kazem al-Saher's
latest album, set against the backdrop of the 2003 war in Iraq.
Yet when Elmessiri
and other critics speak of the video clip in such general terms,
they and their audiences know exactly what kind of video clip
they are talking about, for the term "video clip,"
or "porno clip" as it is sometimes referred to, has
without doubt become a symbol of access via satellite television
stations and the Internet to the previously inaccessible sexually
explicit material that state-controlled television channels
in the Middle East censored and continue to censor. During an
evening seminar organized by the Cairo Opera house in April
2005 entitled "The Culture of the Video Clip" and
featuring the singer Anoushka, the chairman of the Association
of Egyptian Musicians Hassan Abu al-Sa'ud, and sociologist Dr.
'Azza Karim, discussion in fact revolved solely around those
video clips and female artists who are widely considered to
have crossed the line of public propriety and respectable artistic
presentation in Egypt.(4)
In addition to the
Egyptian intelligentsia of the kind present at the Opera-sponsored
event, a good number of Egyptian viewers are quite sympathetic
to Elmessiri's line of thinking, and it is not the intention
of this article to disagree with his analysis. Rather, my aim
is to juxtapose the discourse of critique surrounding the certain
kind of racy video clip that Elmessiri and most critics are
referring to when they make sweeping condemnations of "the
video clip" as a genre, with reactions to a recent figure
-- Sami Yusuf -- who successfully presents video clips that
break out of the mold of "a jingle, a dance, and a dramatic
theme." Through this comparative analysis, I argue that
the wave of critical attacks directed against the video clip
genre in recent years in fact forms part of a larger cultural
debate in Egypt, and indeed in much of the Middle East and the
postcolonial world, as to the proper relationship between art
and society, the mass media and the nation-state, ethics and
technology, the "foreign" and the "authentic."
These debates are not new, but the satellite revolution in the
Middle East is once again bringing these issues to the forefront
of public discussion and concern.
Sami Yusuf: Music
as Message
|
Sami
Yusuf
|
If the video clips
condemned by Elmessiri and others are consumeristic, artless,
and devoid of moral and political consciousness, then Egyptian
audiences and cultural establishment critics alike are embracing
the video clips of the singer and composer Sami Yusuf, a British-born
Muslim of Azeri origin, for their exactly opposite qualities.(5)
The title track of al-Mu'allim, Yusuf's debut album of
Islamic songs, was introduced to Egyptian audiences just before
the beginning of Ramadan 2004 via FM radio stations and the
popular satellite music video channel Melody Hits. This year,
Yusuf released a less overtly religious video clip on the occasion
of Mother's Day in Egypt that also met with the approval of
audiences and the press, and his widespread popularity and respect
earned him an invitation from the Cairo Opera House to perform
as a guest artist at its annual concert of religious music held
on the occasion of Mulid al-Nabi (the Prophet's birthday).
Yusuf is fast becoming
one of the most popular religious singers among Muslims world-wide,
and the particular reasons for his success in Egypt are many.
Islamic religious singing, called inshad in Egypt, has a distinct
cassette market, set of stars, and performance spaces of its
own, and apart from a very few exceptions, the more recent generations
of Egyptian pop singers rarely present religious material, nor
do inshad singers make hip video clips. Sami Yusuf successfully
bridged this gap, deliberately choosing to air his videos on
mainstream Arabic satellite music channels, rather than religious
satellite channels such as Iqra, in order to reach out to the
youth and remind them, through music, of the relevance of the
Prophetic message to their everyday lives. Similarly, stores
in Cairo tend to stock his album next to pop stars like Amr
Diab and Sherine, rather than in the "religious" section
next to lectures of preachers and recordings of more traditional
forms of inshad (6).
A trained musician
but not a native Arabic speaker, Yusuf's songs blend English
and Arabic lyrics with Middle Eastern rhythms and melodic themes,
and his video clip al-Mu'allim juxtaposes lyrics in praise
of the Prophet Muhammad with images of a chic young photographer
going about his daily life, working in his studio, behaving
kindly to his mother and the people in his community, and teaching
religious lessons to children. Sami Yusuf's art thus blends
a religious worldview with a mainstream form of entertainment,
and in doing so, Yusuf communicates a personable, accessible
expression of the Islamic faith that is in harmony with the
modern world and incorporated into the mundane activities of
daily life. In this, more than one observer has noted his affinity
with the Egyptian preacher Amr Khaled, who in fact aired Yusuf's
videos on his popular show Sunnaa' al-Hayah (Life Makers).(7)
Several tracks from the album, as well as an advertisement for
purchasing the CD, appear on Khaled's website, and the two participated
together in a joint lecture/concert in London in September 2004
entitled "An Evening of Reflection."
This collaboration
is revealing, particularly in light of Khaled's views on the
role of the artist in promoting cultural progress (see Amr Khaled's
article on video clips in this issue). Each week on Sunnaa'
al-Hayah, Khaled discusses a different aspect of social
reform and encourages viewers to participate in development
projects that will help bring about a nahda (revival
or renaissance) in their communities, countries, and ultimately,
the Islamic umma (nation) as a whole. In an episode entitled
"Culture, Art, Media . . . and Making Life," Khaled
called upon "gifted young artists to participate with us
in the project of Sunnaa' al-Hayah, and in the project
of progress. There is no rise or progress without you and your
addition; your role, help and support is very important for
the implementation of this progress."(8) Directly addressing
the debate surrounding Arabic music television, Khaled explains
that "the problem of video clips is not only the dissolute
words and movements, but the biggest problem is, in fact, the
import of something that has nothing to do with our own culture.
The picture is Western and the voice is ours…What would
the clip look like! It is useless and aimless. In this way,
it is not art that will exalt the soul; it is directed to desire
and impulse… this is the result of blind imitation."(9)
The episode ends with the plea, "I ask all those who are
with us today, please don't accept to wipe the identity of our
nation, preserve our culture and our art."(10)
Sami Yusuf's own
public statements indicate that he shares Khaled's faith in
the power of art to both preserve core cultural identity and
promote spiritual and material progress. His production company
is named Awakening (another common English translation for the
word nahda), and his website describes him as "a
devout practicing British Muslim who sees songs as a means of
promoting the message of Islam and encouraging the youth to
be proud of their religion and identity."(11) In an interview
with Islam Online in March 2004, Yusuf stated that "Art
(whether it is music, fine art, drawing, architecture, etc.)
has always played a very important role in introducing the richness
and wealth of Muslim civilizations. Muslims throughout history
have been the pioneers of their time and explored the secrets
and mysteries of this world. Among them were art, music, philosophy,
architecture, mosaics, pottery, medicine, mathematics . . .
the list goes on and on. Subhan Allah (Glory be to God),
this is the contribution made to world civilization at large
by the great Ummah (Nation) of Mohammed (peace and blessings
be upon him)."(12)
Yusuf is not without
his critics, some of whom love the music but object to its airing
on "profane" channels such as Melody, and others who
criticize the music itself, even though Yusuf purposefully limited
the use of instruments to percussion on the al-Mu'allim
album so as not to alienate Muslim audiences who consider the
use of wind and string instruments illegal in the eyes of Islamic
law.(13) The debate over the legal status of music in the Islamic
tradition is a long and complicated one, and as a brief glance
at the guestbook of Sami Yusuf's webpage demonstrates, it is
still alive and well.(14) Yet the majority of Muslim Egyptian
critics and viewers, who do not consider listening to music
as something contrary to their faith, seem to welcome Sami Yusuf's
voice, lyrics, and video clip images for their inspirational
religious qualities and artistic merit, as well as for going
against the grain. The popular entertainment weekly 'Ain,
for example, featured the singer on its front page a week before
the start of Ramadan in 2004 with the headline, "Sami Yusuf's
Operation Against the 'Porno Clip' Devils" (15). The corresponding
article by Mohammed Faruq described Yusuf's al-Mu'allim
video, irrespective of its religious content, as an 'amaliyya
fida'iyya (resistance operation) against the kind of performers
and songs that usually fill the screens of Arab satellite music
channels. Despite his dislike of censorship, he writes, "I
can't deny the role of Maria, Tina, Negla, Ruby, and Jad Choueiri
in insulting art as a message and a means for promoting society's
morals . . . so the coming days (of Ramadan) have become the
prerogative of stars whose art has a purpose (al-fann al-hadif),
wholesome songs, and Sami Yusuf!"(16) Another Egyptian
admirer, Aida, posted the following note on Yusuf's website,
"I love youre music I think you are such an inspiration
to all muslims an u are the one who got me to put on the hijab
you and amr khaled thank you so much for being a good inspiration
to my life."(17)
The Video Clip
and al-Fann al-Hadif (Art with a Purpose)
Sami Yusuf's admirers,
like Elmessiri and other critics of the video clip, all share
an understanding of the role of art as ideally ideological,
uplifting, and enlightening. In other words, art ought to convey
a message, have a purpose, and be of use. Using this logic,
critics of video clips attack the genre because its "goal
is not to enlighten us or deepen our understanding of our surroundings-it's
profit" (Elmessiri); it is "useless and aimless …
not art that will exalt the soul" (Khaled); and it "insult(s)
art as a message and a means for promoting society's morals"
(Faruq). On the other hand, Sami Yusuf's videos are "an
inspiration" (Aida); a "resistance operation"
(Faruq); and "a means of promoting the message of Islam
and encouraging the youth to be proud of their religion and
identity" (Yusuf's website).
In the post-independence
era in Egypt, as in much of the Arab World, state-run mass media
-- radio, television, newspapers, and subsidized cinema -- became
the mouthpiece for expressing the national aspirations of progress
and development that characterized the 1950s and 1960s. Artists
and artistic expression played a large role in articulating
and disseminating these hopes for the building of a modern Egypt.(18)
Yet the political, economic, and social disappointments since
that time, as well as the role of state media institutions in
circumscribing information made available to the public, have
led many Egyptians to feel wary and disillusioned not only of
the rhetoric of progress and development but also of the mouthpiece
of that discourse -- state-run media.(19) The rapid spread of
satellite television in Egyptian homes and public spaces in
the past few years -- in part due to the illegal subscription
companies that have sprouted up in lower-income neighborhoods,
as well as to the decreasing prices of the receiving technology
-- is enabling a substantial portion of the Egyptian public
to access programs and subject matter previously unavailable
during the past half century of state-controlled television.
Consequently, the resulting heyday of remote control options
has opened up a Pandora's Box of questions related to censorship,
viewing ethics, and the proper role and goals of the mass media.
Although we lack reliable, publicly available statistics that
detail viewer preferences for certain channels and programs
or for satellite channel profits from sources such as advertising,
viewer calls, and SMS messages, it seems clear that after years
of having little choice but to watch ideologically oriented
broadcasts produced by government institutions, many audience
members are basking in the opportunity to entertain themselves
through viewing private satellite television channel programming
-- be it political, religious, or sexually explicit -- that
is not sanctioned by the state.
In this regard, the
current proliferation of satellite television in Egypt invites
comparison with the spread of cassette tape technology in the
1970s, which allowed audiences to listen to music and religious
sermons not broadcast over officially sanctioned radio or television.
Then as now, Egyptian establishment critics labeled the brash
new music and lyrics of certain singers, such as Ahmad Adawiyya,
that did not conform to the artistic standards and modernist
ideology of previous generations as "vulgar," "meaningless,"
and "all about making money."(20) Yet despite the
invisibility of Adawiyya on state-run radio and television,
he become enormously popular through the sale of cassette tapes,
and as Walter Armbrust points out in his book Mass Culture
and Modernism in Egypt, "It is Adawiya's frank appeal
to the masses -- without any of the rhetoric of "raising
their cultural standards" -- that sets him apart from singers
backed by the cultural establishment in print and on television."(21)
(See Walter Armbrust's article on
video clips in this issue.)
Are Ruby, Maria,
Jad, and others of their ilk the Adawiyas of today? Perhaps,
yet as the example of Sami Yusuf demonstrates, a substantial
audience exists that agrees with the critics in their call for
art that does not merely entertain but that does so with a respectable
purpose. The intensity of attacks on the video clip appears
to be influencing the genre, and it seems that a new trend in
Arabic pop music is emerging in which artists are consciously
responding to these criticisms and promoting their songs as
respectful of society's values, message-oriented, and more in
tune with their audience's everyday social circumstances. Thus
the Arabic daily Al-Hayat recently reported that the
Lebanese singer Haifa Wahbi, one of the favorite targets of
video clip critics, intends for her upcoming video clip "to
include a 'message' that says to the audience that her songs
are not necessarily without civilized content (madmun insani)
and that her presence in a clip not only conveys physical arousal
and seduction but the communication of a particular message."(22)
As I write in mid-April
2005, the video clip that is the talk of Cairo these days is
not the latest "porno clip" from Boosy Samir but the
Bouchra/Mahmoud El Esseily duet Tabat wi-Nabat (Happily
Ever After), a love song that features a "family-values"
oriented story of a new couple journeying through life together
and raising their children. Another recent song that has sparked
a good deal of interest is Haytham Sa'id's Humma Malhum Bina
Ya Leel (What Have They To Do with Us?) (directed, interestingly,
by Sherif Sabri, the director of Ruby's clips), whose video
is the first one in recent Egyptian pop music memory to feature
a chic young love interest wearing the veil. Set on the Qasr
al-Nil bridge, one of Cairo's favorite spots for young lovers
to stroll, the video reflects the socio-economic realities of
the majority of the city's youth far more than the typical disco-theme
videos that are set in fancy nightclubs, villas, or tourist
resorts and feature crowds of dancing, scantily clad models.(23)
The press is responding enthusiastically to these new developments,
with a recent issue of 'Ain, for example, publishing
an article entitled "The CVs of Respectable Video Clip
Singers."(24) As the novelty of racy material aired on
satellite music channels fades, observers of the cultural politics
of the video clip might very well witness in the coming months
a new trajectory in Arabic pop music towards al-fann al-hadif.
Patricia Kubala
is a graduate student in the Department of Religious Studies
at the University of California, Santa Barbara. She currently
lives in Cairo, where she is studying Arabic at the Center for
Arabic Study Abroad and conducting research for her master's
thesis on the public debate in Egypt surrounding Arabic music
video clips. She may be reached at pkubala@umail.ucsb.edu.
REFERENCES
1. Elmessiri, Abdel-Wahab
M. "Ruby and the chequered heart." Al-Ahram Weekly,
17-23 March 2005. http://weekly.ahram.org.eg/2005/734/feature.htm.
Originally published in Arabic in the Egyptian government daily
Al-Ahram, the article was translated for publication
in the English Al-Ahram Weekly, from which this quote
is taken.
2. Ibid.
3. Ibid.
4. Critics of the video clip almost always focus on the bodies
of female, rather than male, entertainers. Readers interested
in a historical and anthropological perspective on the gendered
nature of the discourse surrounding performers in Egypt are
referred to Karin van Nieuwkerk's book A Trade Like Any Other:
Female Singers and Dancers in Egypt, published by the University
of Texas Press in 1995.
5. For readers interested in further information in English
on Sami Yusuf, Al Ahram Weekly published an article on
the singer by Dena Rashed in the November 4-10 2004 edition
of the paper (http://weekly.ahram.org.eg/2004/715/feature.htm).
Yusuf's own official website is http://www.samiyusuf.com.
6. This information was shared with me by Sharif Hasan Al-Banna,
one of Sami Yusuf's team of producers at the Awakening company,
during an interview in Cairo on April 12, 2005.
7. See for example, Dena Rashed's article mentioned in note
5, as well as Lindsay Wise's article, "Amr Khaled: Broadcasting
the Nahda," from the Fall/Winter 2004 issue of TBS (TBS
13). Amr Khaled's own official website is http://www.amrkhaled.net.
8. The Arabic recordings of these lectures are posted on Amr
Khaled's website, along with translations into English and several
other languages. The website for the English translation of
this particular episode of the Sunna' al-Hayah program,
from which this quote is taken, is http://www.amrkhaled.net/articles/articles406.html.
9. Ibid.
10. Ibid.
11. http://www.samiyusuf.com/biog/index.htm
12. Elsaman, Soha. "Sami Yusuf: Breaking the Shackles of
Bigotry Through Inshad." Islam Online, March 16, 2004.
http://www.islamonline.net/English/ArtCulture/2004/03/article07.shtml
13. According to al-Banna, Yusuf is planning to release two
versions of his upcoming album, one of which will include orchestral
instruments, while the other will utilize only voice and percussion
in order to meet the listening needs of multiple audiences.
14. An excellent summary of this debate is found in the third
chapter, "The Sama' Polemic," of Kristina Nelson's
book The Art of Reciting the Qur'an, published by the
American University in Cairo Press in 2001. An example of an
entry that speaks directly to this debate includes Asmaa from
Morocco, who posted the following comment in the guestbook on
April 7, 2005, "we like you so much you have a great voice
but do you know the opinion of islam about music?" Entry
#13032, http://www.samiyusuf.com/guestbook/guestbook.php
15. 'Ain, October 7, 2004, no.65.
16. Faruq, Muhammad. "'Amaliyyat Sami Yusuf didd najamat
al-burnu klib." 'Ain, October 7, 2004, no.65. All
of the singers (Maria, Tina, etc.) mentioned here are frequently
invoked by critics of the video clip as examples of dissolute
and vulgar performers. The translation into English is my own.
17. Aida Arafat, April 8, 2005, #13098, http://www.samiyusuf.com/guestbook/guestbook.php.
18. For a discussion of the role of one artist, Umm Kulthum,
the most widely acclaimed Egyptian and Arab singer of the 20th
century, in symbolizing nationalist aspirations and supporting
its causes, see Virginia Danielson's book The Voice of Egypt:
Umm Kulthum, Arabic song, and Egyptian society in the twentieth
century, published by the University of Chicago Press in
1997.
19. One example of an article on satellite television than contains
this line of thinking is Yasir Abdel Hafez's piece "Sariq
Al-Ka'aba" ("The Thief of Dejection") in the
September 2004 edition of the monthly Egyptian magazine Sutur.
20. Armbrust, Walter. Mass Culture and Modernism in Egypt.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996. In particular,
see Chapter 7, "Vulgarity."
21. Ibid, p. 184.
22. "Haifa Wahbi Sahibat Qadiya." Al-Hayat,
April 6, 2004. http://www.daralhayat.com/culture/
music/04-2005/Item-20050405-137da42c-c0a8-10ed-0045-60cf730bef75/story.html.
The translation is my own.
23. Not everyone is enthusiastic about this video. During my
conversion with al-Banna, he mentioned that Egyptian friends
of his wondered if the video's producers were attempting to
capitalize on Sami Yusuf's success at attracting mainstream
audiences with Muslim themes by exploiting the figure of the
veiled young woman. These young men objected to what they viewed
as the video's commodification of the veil and its trivial use
to attract viewers despite the lack of any religious message
or content in the song, whose lyrics and melody resemble those
of any number of romantic video clips.
24. Al-'Ishsh, Abd al-Hamid. "CV mutribi al-Kilibat al-Muhtarama."
'Ain, April 14, 2005, no. 92.
[printer friendly version]
|